


Of pillow forts and pillow fights

by Alice_huhhuhhhu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Dean is not so happy, Fluff, Gabriel Being Gabriel (Supernatural), Humor, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), One Shot, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Pillow Fights, Sam plays along, Short One Shot, Suspicious Dean Winchester, happiness, mentions of pranks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_huhhuhhhu/pseuds/Alice_huhhuhhhu
Summary: After coming back home, the brothers can't find Gabriel anywhere in the bunker. Sam decides to investigate. Silly shenanigans ensue, because Gabriel is always up to something.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	Of pillow forts and pillow fights

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to my friend for inspiring me and giving me the quotes… I hope this is along the lines of what you had in mind!

„Gabriel? We’re back!“ Sam’s voice rang through the bunker, followed by a warning from Dean: “If you’ve made a mess of the place again, don’t dare to show your face until you’ve cleaned it up, alright?”

Laughing, the younger brother headed towards the kitchen, a place where the archangel could usually be found, either stealing candy from the cupboard or cooking something that barely resembled edible food. Sam would eat it anyway, no matter how often his taste buds warned him about the amount of sugar and calories the meal contained, and he had to admit that Gabriel could snap up a perfect smoothie if he asked _very nicely_.

Lost in thought, Sam arrived at his destination. The kitchen was empty, and, luckily, clean. No sign of Gabriel whatsoever.

“Thank God” Dean muttered when he entered the room as well to get a cold beer from the fridge. He offered one to his younger brother, but Sam refused, genuinely confused by the lack of angelic evidence. It was rude not to greet back when the family came home after yet another life-or-death-situation, damn it.

Silence was never a good sign in this household. Silence either meant that someone had died (again), that nobody wanted to talk about what had happened on a case, that there had been another argument or that some sneaky bastard had set up a trap for the Winchesters to run into.

Dean had chased Gabriel through the whole bunker once after he had been tackled to the ground by a pack of incredibly cute, but energetic dogs the trickster had set loose on him. Sam had secretly enjoyed that prank a lot, but… nope, silence wasn’t good, and peace was relaxing, but always a bit too suspicious to enjoy.

“Should I go and check if he started another apocalypse or something?” Dean offered. His brother merely shook his head.

“I can handle it.”

“Oh I’m sure you can, Sammy.”

The younger Winchester ignored the mocking undertone and matching eyebrow waggle, already leaving the kitchen. “None of your business” he thought, at lest _his_ angel hadn’t secretly tried to _keep bees in the basement_.

To be fair, some of Gabriel’s pranks had been far worse than that, and he didn’t go any easier on him just because there was that _thing_ going on between them. Quite the opposite, actually. Spending more time with the trickster also meant being a constant target of his shenanigans, but his subtle displays of affection usually compensated for the torture.

His own room was the last place he had expected the archangel to be in, but his legs carried him there out of habit. The first thing Sam noticed was that all the blankets and pillows from his bed were missing. Then he noticed they were all piled up on the floor. Then he saw that they were _moving_. Finally the hunter recognized the figure sitting in between, struggling to spread out a blanket.

“Uhhhh… Gabriel? What do you think you’re doing with _my_ blanket?”

“Nothing. In case you can’t see, your moose blanket is too big.”

Gabriel showed him his best pouting face, still tugging at the piece of fabric. Somewhere in the back of his head Sam realized that Gabriel, archangel of the Lord, one of heaven’s most terrifying weapons, was in the middle of building a pillow fort, and it made him smile like a dumbass while the angel was cursing silently.

“What’s so funny? Can’t you see that I’m suffering, Samsquatch? Give me a hand here.”

Swallowing down the urge to search for a camera to capture this adorable image for all of eternity, Sam obediently knelt down beside Gabriel and laid out the soft blanket before assembling the pillows around it so that something vaguely fort-shaped developed after a few minutes.

Gabriel’s enthusiasm never seemed to cease until they finally settled down in the middle of their work to appreciate it. The small space, surrounded by pillows in various shapes and colors, was a bit cramped, but none of them seemed to mind the consequent proximity.

“Why didn’t you just use your powers to build this?” Sam asked into the silence, wondering why his first question hadn’t been something along the lines of “why the hell are we doing this” or “aren’t you a few million years too old to be building pillow forts?”, but he realized that at this point, he didn’t even care anymore.

“I wanted to do this the old-fashioned way” Gabriel gave back with a shrug, and that was the only answer Sam would get, because the moment after he was hit in the face with a pillow.

“What was that for?!”

Instead of an answer, he got another mouthful of fabric.

“Alright then, you asked for it. You wanted a pillow fight; you’ll get a pillow fight.” Sam’s attitude had switched from confused and annoyed to ambitious within seconds as his hunter instincts kicked in, and he defended himself by tearing down a whole wall of their pillow fort, burying the archangel underneath a pile of pillows.

“Strong people call it mattress war!” spoke the archangel of the Lord and arose from the mess on the floor, suddenly holding a foam mattress in his arms and attacking Sam with it mercilessly. “… but that kinda sounds like a synonym for sex” Gabriel added, smirking, before he shrugged and continued his battle against the hunter who was now attempting to wrap the angel up in a blanket to make him immobile.

As he had almost succeeded in burrito-wrapping the archangel who was still struggling relentlessly underneath him, Dean entered the scene, a confused-looking Cas by his side.

“What exactly are they doing down there on the floor?” Castiel questioned, obviously expecting an answer from Dean who wasn’t sure if he should laugh or roll his eyes at what he saw.

“Honestly?” he managed, too exhausted and done with the world to explain the purpose of pillow fights to the angel, “I don’t want to know. Let’s just leave them be and hope they’ll be quiet so I can get some rest.”

Needless to say, Dean did _not_ get any rest that afternoon.


End file.
